


Suddenly Though

by schneestern



Category: Torchwood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-22
Updated: 2008-01-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6588967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schneestern/pseuds/schneestern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no idea how this happened. One moment I was looking at Jack/Ianto icons and the next I was writing RPS about John and Gareth instead. Yeah, I don't know either. Thanks to the ever amazing <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://unamaga.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://unamaga.livejournal.com/">unamaga</a> for listening, helping and beta'ing.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Suddenly Though

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how this happened. One moment I was looking at Jack/Ianto icons and the next I was writing RPS about John and Gareth instead. Yeah, I don't know either. Thanks to the ever amazing [](http://unamaga.livejournal.com/profile)[unamaga](http://unamaga.livejournal.com/) for listening, helping and beta'ing.

The director yells cut and announces a break until they've set up the next take and shot the other angles they still need. Gareth moves out of the technician's way, trying not to trip over the cables covering the Hub's floor. He wanders off while they set up the next shot and everyone's busy trying to keep the chaos in check.

Outside the studio the air is cooler, quieter, except for the rain. It's always raining because that's just how it is in Cardiff, and Gareth keeps to a dry spot under the roof, doesn't want to give make-up an even harder time than they already have.

He stares up into the sky and slowly breathes in and out, because he's sure if he actually starts thinking about kissing John, starts thinking about what it _felt_ like, the rush and the sensations of falling and being caught mid fall – yeah. He's not thinking about it.

Not at all.

Of course, as inevitable as the rain, after a few seconds, or maybe minutes, Gareth hears the door behind him open. When John steps up next to him, tugging his hands into his pockets, not even shivering even though he's just in his shirt, Gareth irrationally thinks that he should have timed it with that damned stopwatch that's still heavy in his pocket. Eventually, John always finds him.

And, like always, Gareth stops concentrating on thinking about nothing and starts to breathe like John, listening to him scuff his toe against the concrete, probably not even noticing that he’s doing it.

He bites his tongue, because he is not going to say something first, he's not. He's not bumbly Ianto, he's a grown man and he does not have to fill every silence with--

"Sorry about earlier," Gareth says.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see John raise a curious eyebrow, smirk already spreading on his face.

"Excuse me?"

"The--when I bit your lip? Sorry 'bout that."

Gareth feels his cheeks heat up and stuffs his hands into his pants pockets so he doesn't start fidgeting, his fingertips touching the cold metal of the stopwatch.

For a moment he can feel John hesitating like he has to remember what Gareth is talking about and then he barks out a short, breathless laugh, like he gets bitten on the lip while kissing his co-star every day.

"You're still thinking about that? Let it go, Gareth," and Gareth is not looking at John, still not looking, but no matter how hard he stares into the sky he still sees John tongue the little cut on his bottom lip, faint smile still firmly on his face.

Really, John shouldn't take it so lightly – they had rehearsed after all, Gareth had insisted on it, had known what to do and still gotten it wrong.

"You bled," he says before he can stop himself, anger at himself creeping into his words, "you bled even though I made you rehearse it. You’ve never had to rehearse the kissing with anyone else."

This time the silence is like a wall between them and when John doesn't say anything at all, Gareth chances a glance over to the side. John is looking at him, slight frown on his face and an expression of thoughtful concentration replacing that ever present smirk on his face.

It's a little disconcerting. Gareth rarely sees John _not_ smiling. For some reason he feels like apologizing, even though he has no idea what exactly he's said. He even has his mouth half open, ready to say something, ready to take back whatever the hell it was he said.

Then John suddenly moves forward, so fast Gareth barely has time to blink. His back hits the wall at an awkward angle and seconds later John's pressed against him, intense look in his eyes, and Gareth can feel the rain slowly soaking into the fabric of his clothes where they’re exposed to the downpour.

"Listen to me," John says, one hand curling around Gareth's shoulder in a strangely reassuring way, "it doesn't matter if I rehearsed with Eve before that first kiss or if Matt told everyone in the interviews we just improvised. It matters if you're feeling it, if it feels _real_ , okay?"

John stares at him like he's trying to make Gareth understand it by sheer force of will and Gareth really tries to, but all he can think about is that day when he saw the footage of Matt and John kissing – in front of all those people, just like that – and the slow panic that spread through his belly at the thought of having to do it too, the pressure of having to make it count.

Gareth steadfastly looks somewhere to the side of John's head and takes another deep breath, feels John's chest slide against his with the movement.

"You're not getting it, are you?" John says, and it's not disappointed or angry; no, he has a weird little smile on his face Gareth has never seen before. It's a little crooked and out of place on his face – it's not John Barrowman the entertainer. It's something else, it's--Gareth doesn't really want to place it.

Instead he blurts out, "No, no, I absolutely understand, John, thank you," and while his voice is calm and collected, he knows that John knows that he's lying through his teeth.

Already, he can see John shaking his head, and he calculates how he can get out of this the easiest, laugh it off, slip away under John's left arm. Then, John touches his fingertips to Gareth's cheek and Gareth forgets his carefully formed escape plan because John's fingers are cold against his skin and its like electricity and lightning and John's lips are on his, soft and firm; the rain around them picks up.

Gareth forgets to think as his hand curls around John's hip, pulling him closer; as he touches his tongue to John's lips and John opens them like he's waited for it.

He probably has.

Their tongues brush, slow and easy, like they have all the time in the world to do this, to find the right way to tilt their heads, to move their bodies together. John slides one hand into the soft hair at the nape of Gareth's neck and it's so painfully familiar – it's how John kisses, holding on with both hands, body firmly rooted in the moment. It makes Gareth wonder even now how much of John there is in Jack, how much Jack there is in John; his thoughts chase each other stupidly in circles as John sucks on his tongue, capable fingers curled against the side of his neck to hold him close.

Gareth makes a soft noise in the back of his throat as John moves even closer, tilts their hips just so that their dicks rub through layers of clothing, just a brief, slow stroke, an extension of the kiss, of John's hand on Gareth's face.

It's John who pulls away first, a barely there shift of muscles before Gareth is tasting the slight hint of blood from the cut on John's lip, and then just the rain-heavy air.

Gareth opens his eyes, looks at John as he carefully trails his fingers over his mouth, blindly swiping away smudged make-up like someone who's done it before. Gareth stupidly tugs on his jacket, mind a complete blank except for the slowly spreading feeling of relief he doesn't know the origin of.

"There," John finally says, breaking through their heavy breathing. "Now you get it," and he smiles, a brilliant, radiant smile that explains it all, as far as he's concerned.

"We should be in again in about two minutes, I think," he says without looking at his watch, eyes still steady on Gareth's face. "Okay?"

Gareth nods carefully. "Yeah, okay," and he looks at John and sees him, really sees him, and this time it makes him smile because, yeah, maybe he gets it now. He runs a hand through his hair, rain droplets falling on his face from his soaked through sleeve.

He doesn't even notice that he has the stopwatch in his hand until he hears John laugh, and then he has to laugh too.

"Two minutes?" he says, rolling the vowels in his mouth like Ianto would, familiar Welsh drawl.

John's eyes sparkle as he says, "Enough time for a coffee?" and claps a hand on Gareth's back, warm and comfortable, leading him back inside. 


End file.
